


Working Lunch

by FatlockFills



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fatlock, Mutual Gaining, Stuffing, Weight Gain, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:18:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatlockFills/pseuds/FatlockFills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt received at fatlock.tumblr.com:</p><p>Anonymous said: would a mutual gaining anthea/mycroft scene be possible? uwu</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Lunch

The pen rolled to the edge of Mycroft’s desk and then dropped. It skittered across the floor, fetching up against the waste basket tucked into the corner. “Anthea, my dear…” Mycroft said. She looked up, lips pressed to a thin line, and then got up. When she reached the basket she had to bend over awkwardly. Her pencil skirt was far too tight: Mycroft could see the outline of her soft, jiggling arse as well as the panty line as too tight silk dug in. When she bent over, he could see the overhang of a belly pooching out over the straining button of her skirt.

"Here," she said, and placed it back on his desk. She had her own work station in the same large room. Much smaller, more given to hand held devices than the large computer he did most of his work on. She’d barely settled herself behind her desk before he told her he felt like lunch.

"It’s only 11:30," she protested, and Mycroft nodded.

"I seem to have developed an appetite." His gaze dropped her to soft, swelling breasts as they pushed against the fabric of her shirt, and she sighed.

"Of course you have. It’s been growing every day. Much like you have." Anthea reached out, selecting a personal phone and dialing in a large delivery order from a delightful bakery not far away.

Mycroft nodded. His diet had been ruined for months, and his arse was pressing uncomfortably against the side of his chair now. He kept having his clothes let out to accommodate the pounds he was packing on left and right. He’d always enjoyed his food, but Anthea was the perfect feeder; firm, scornful, and rapidly getting as fat as he.

By twelve, their order had arrived. “Eat until you THINK you can’t handle any more,” she said, and Mycroft fell to with a gusto. When he finally lifted his head three sandwiches later, he was groaning with food. She’d ordered well; thick soft rolls smothered in mayo and mustard, hot beef pastrami with the fat left on, crisp lettuce and succulent tomato. And melted cheese, on top of everything. His stomach pressed against the desk when he leaned forward, mopping his face.

"Mmm. They get better every day," Anthea said, and he lifted his eyes to stare at her. His mouth fell open when he saw her. She’d come to eat lunch sitting on her desk, electronics piled up so they weren’t crushed under her spreading arse. At some point during the meal she’d undone the buttons on her skirt, and now her stomach hung out, resting heavily in her lap. Even so, the bottom buttons on her fashionable blouse were straining. As he watched, she rubbed her soft, bloated belly, eyes half closed, moaning with pleasure in a way that went straight to his cock.

"You look stuffed, my dear," he said. "However do you propose to fit back in that skirt?"

She pressed her hands to the side of her stomach, kneading the soft fat, and let it hang out again. “No one will even notice, once I’ve gotten those trousers off you.” She jiggled her belly just to watch him stare, and then opened a second delivery bag. Anthea crossed to him, and then opened the box: six eclairs, another sandwich, and half a dozen donuts.

"I couldn’t possibly—" he began, but she put one end of an eclair in her mouth, leaning over to press the other against his lips. Moaning, Mycroft put one hand to his flabby belly and began to eat.


End file.
